One Shots: The Geek Collection

He’s tall, slender, and has an amused smile that makes me forget that it’s my turn to talk.

“Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize anyone was listening,” I say little timidly, not quite sure what to say. It didn’t help that the first thing I noticed about him was his obvious attractiveness. Wavy blond hair and brilliant blue eyes to match - a perfect combination that could probably make any girl speechless.

“Mind if I take a look?”

“Uh, yeah, of course, go ahead,” I quickly reply without thinking. 

He approaches and rests his hands on the car, leaning forward on it and quietly studying the contents inside the hood.

“It’s okay if you can’t fix it...” I tell him. “It’s had problems for a while and I should have already gotten it fixed, so it’s my fault.”

He turns his head and gives me a proud smile. ”Lucky for you, it’s getting fixed right now.”

He immediately goes to work on the car - fiddling, tugging, twisting, and connecting.

“So you’re a mechanic?”

“Ah, not exactly.”

“Engineer?”

“A little.”

A puzzled look crosses my face. “So what are you... exactly...?”

He lets out a short chuckle and gives me an amused smile over his shoulder. “A heck of a science nerd, I guess.”

A few quiet moments pass before he leans away from under the hood and dusts his hands. “Should be ready to start up, now.”

I nod and jump into the driver’s seat. The car starts immediately, better than it has in years.

“No way,” I whisper under my breath.

I shut off the car before I step out again, ready to thank the young man. 

However, when I walk towards the hood, I realize there’s no longer anyone behind it. He’s nowhere to be seen, and there’s no sign that he had ever even shown up - all except for the little sticky note paper-clipped to the Bonnet prop rod.

Just in case you ever have any more car troubles... ;)

- - -

“This is me,” I say to him, stopping at the door of my apartment. “I’m sorry you had to walk all the way-“

“No, don’t apologize, please,” He says to me, shaking his head. He sticks his hands in his pockets. “I’m just doing the right thing.”

I give him an appreciative smile, but eventually my eyebrows furrow as I realize this guy just spent half an hour making sure a stranger got home safely. “Is there anything I can do? Do you want a drink or, what? I don’t know, a tip?”

He lets out a lighthearted laugh, the infectious kind that makes you want to laugh along with him. “I don’t need a tip,” he says. “I’m just a guy trying to do the right thing.”

“But I have to thank you somehow, don’t I?”

He gave me a kind smile and shook his head.

I let out a short laugh and shake my head as I turn to my door, digging my keys out of my pocket. “So you’re just out and about and when you see a man push a girl to the ground and take her purse, you decide to jump in and go all, you know... ninja? Even if this man has a gun? Sounds like something I would owe you for, doesn’t it?”

“If you really want to thank me, then take this.” I turn back around as he removes one of his hands from his pocket to reveal a paper clip, bent in a zig-zag shape. We meet eyes as he drops it in my outstretched hand. They have a mischievous yet endearing look in them, something that I’m sure has charmed more than a handful of girls in the past. Just as I realize I should probably break eye contact with him, his grin spreads a little more. “You’d be surprised what a paper clip can do.”

My eyebrows raise in a little confusion, but I smile anyway. “Well, just-a-guy, thank you,” I tell him, turning back to my door to push it open. I take one step inside, ready to bid him goodbye when I stop and realize- “Hey, I uh, don’t think I got your name,” I say, but quickly close my mouth when I turn around to realize he is nowhere to be seen.

-   -

Needless to say, I kept the paperclip.

...And the other paperclip.

...And the other.

It had been almost a month since I’d been saved and walked home by paperclip-guy, which is the name I decided to give him when I realized he wouldn’t be leaving my mind anytime soon.

I had been seeing paperclips everywhere - the coffee shop, the grocery store, you name it. I couldn’t decide if they were following me or I had simply taken more notice in paperclips since that night, but I decided to take them home whenever I would discover a new one. I now had a small handful of them at home, all bent in different shapes: curved ones, straight ones, or both; they never came in their normal shape. They came once or twice a week, usually in a busy area where it would be hard to pinpoint a stranger.

I was almost certain that paperclip-guy was behind it.

I slid my credit card out of my wallet, prepared to pay my usual $3.78 for my overpriced frappucino.

“Uh, ma’am, your charge has already been anonymously paid,” the barista told me, catching me off guard. He ripped off a receipt and held it out to me. “Your drink will be ready shortly.”

I nodded. “Alright, thank you,” I told him, taking my receipt. As I moved to the end of the counter, I forced myself from doing an obvious 360 sweep of the whole café for any suspects, though deep down I suspected who it must be.

My drink was given to me, as promised. It was when I turned to grab a straw that I noticed the paper clip, tucked under the container. I looked left and right, a little paranoid but also a little curious. He was here; he had to be.

The little tiny wire was a little curved, a little straight. There was a curve at the top and two straight legs at the bottom, a symbol I recognized as an R.

He is here.

How did I know? This was the last paperclip - the last letter.

Finally I decided to do a sweep of the café, whether I made myself obvious or not.

He definitely wasn’t making finding him easy; it was the busiest part of the morning, right when everyone would grab their coffee before showing up for work. It didn’t help that today was Friday, either. Everyone had woken up a little earlier for a coffee to get them through one last day before the weekend. Every booth and high table was occupied, most of them adults or college students, some of them high school juniors and seniors who were making the most of their newly-acquired driver’s licenses. There was one patron, however, that I immediately recognized.

He was sitting alone next to the window, perched on a high table for two. His back was a little hunched as he studied something in his hands, concentrated and curious. He twisted and turned, fixed and adjusted. Whatever it was, he was so engrossed in it that he didn’t notice that I’d discovered him.

Before I knew it, I was within a few paces from his table, my stomach twisting tighter and tighter with each step. It was when I was in an arm’s length of the empty chair opposite him that he finally looked up.

His eyes met mine, electric blue.

I thought I was going to have a heart attack, right there in front of him, right there in the middle of the busy little café.

He gave me a charming, lopsided grin.

“Hey,” he said simply and smoothly, politeness, mischief, charm, and cheekiness packed all into one word.

I inhaled a little shakily. “Hi,”

I wasn’t really sure what to say, but I suppose I took too long thinking about it; instead of waiting for an answer he stood up and crossed the table.

“Here,” he said, pulling the empty chair from the table.

“Oh, um, are you sure?”

His lopsided grin widened and he shrugged a shoulder. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

I’m not sure how to reply to this either, so I sit down.

He sits down across from me and suddenly I remember what I’m here for.

I inhale and open my mouth a few seconds before I speak, forming my words carefully. “So, MacGyver... is it your first or last name?” I ask unsurely, but I feel better when he gives an approving smile.

“Last,” he replies simply. “My friends call me Mac.”

“And your first?” I ask with more confidence. “And please,” I say, letting out a short laugh. “Don’t take another month to spell it out with paperclips.”

He chuckles. “It’s Angus,” he says lightheartedly. “I know, kinda lame, but that’s what I got.“

“What? No, it’s unique,” I assure him honestly.

He shrugs, still smiling. “Yeah, something like that, I guess.”

I glance down to the table, where a small piece of paper lay, seeming to be a straw wrapper folded into a star. I don’t comment on it, but I continue the conversation.

“I want to thank you for the drink. And that night especially,” I say politely. I glance back up and find his eyes already boring into mine, brilliant sky blue.

He gave me that same lopsided grin that didn’t fail to make my heart dance. He glances down at the paper star and plucks it off the table between his fingers. “If you want to thank me, take this,” he says, quoting himself from the night I met him.

He lowers his gaze as he reaches across the table and gently takes my hand, his eyes flickering back up to mine, almost as if he were asking for permission. I let him take it, and he places the object in my hands, light and tiny. He placed his hand over mine, closing my fingers around it.

“What is it?” I asked, my heart hammering in my chest. My hands felt shaky and heat was beginning to burn my cheeks; I prayed he didn’t notice.

Instead of answering he gave me his charming smile as he lifted my hand, turning it over and briefly bringing it to his lips. If my cheeks weren’t already red, they definitely are now.

“I’ll see you soon,” he said as he placed my hand back on the table, leaving me with a smile that wouldn’t be leaving my mind anytime soon.

I glance down at the little star in my hand, inspecting the perfect angles and design of it. As I turn it over in my hand I notice there’s a number written on it. Undoubtedly, he’s written his number on the inside, but before I unravel it, I look up, just as he places his hand on the door.

“Please,” she said, taking a step closer to me. “I have to know. Skywalker won’t tell me.”

“Don’t you think he has his reasons for not telling you?”

“Yes, but whatever it is, I need to know. I think Ben may have some conflict in him. I think-“

“What?” I said, interrupting her. “How could you know that?”

She shifted her feet a little. “I have...  connected with him. I’m not sure how or why. Sometimes we can see each other. We can talk to each other but... it isn’t always perfect communication. Sometimes we break contact. I’m not sure what to make of it.”

“I’ve never heard of anyone being connected like this... How are you so sure that this is a resource you can trust?” I asked.

“Because the Force has connected us for a reason!” She answered in desperate belief, almost like a child trying to convince the factuality of a fairytale. “I have to have all the information I can get! I can’t fight Ben knowing there could be good in him; I can’t take a chance on ending a life that could have been saved.”

I peered at her hesitantly, doubt stirring in my mind. “Yes, well... like I said, Luke Skywalker had his reasons.”

“What happened, exactly?”

“During Ben’s training, it was obvious to Master Luke that he showed very promising results, but also very... ah, distinct results. He was always pushing himself to become better. Ben was one of the top students, but he too had his flaws. If you paid close attention, you would notice how he would push himself a little too hard, or how he would put all his anger and emotions into his training, especially when he became frustrated. He was an exceptional student. However, his strong talents may have lead him to who he is today - Kylo Ren.”

“And then what?”

“One night, Master Luke traveled to Ben’s sleeping quarters. He was convinced that he knew what Ben would become later in life. He thought the turmoil inside his heart was destined to swallow him whole and turn him into a monster. Technically, he was right - but not because Ben was a bad person, but because Luke failed him.

Standing next to him as he slept, Luke raised his lightsaber over his head, prepared to end his pupil’s life in hopes of stopping him before he could become evil. As he prepared to kill him, Ben awakened. He opened his eyes to see his own teacher before him, just moments from taking his life. But, as he stood there, meeting the gaze of his soon-to-be dead student, Luke did not see what he expected. Instead of an angry enemy ready to defend and kill, he instead saw a scared boy, frightened and betrayed by his own mentor.”

“So Ben isn’t really-?”

“It isn’t that simple,” I interrupted before she could ask her naive question. “Allow me to finish.”

She nodded and I continued.

“In that instant of betrayal, something inside Ben changed. There’s no way to know for sure, but I believe, in that moment, he decided that there was no place for him in the light side. If his own mentor did not believe in him, wanted to kill him even, then why remain on the same side? Luke’s fear of Ben awakened the monster that lay dormant inside him. If Master Luke himself feared him, then surely it was hopeless to fight for the light - here was no way he could win. There was nothing left to do except turn himself to the dark side. For so long he had trained to be the best person he could, struggling between right and wrong, but Luke’s attempt to bring an end to him finally pushed him over the edge. There was no going back after that. So then, he gave all he had, all of his being, to the dark side.

After escaping Skywalker, he then raged on into the night, traveling to each of his peers’ sleeping quarters. In each one he found one of his fellow students. There were eleven. At the mercy of his lightsaber, a number of lives were ended that night - eleven to be exact.

However, all except one student was brutally murdered that night. I... I am that exception.”

“How... how did you...?”

“How did I survive? I didn’t. I was spared. That night, I was the last to be visited by Ben Solo. I woke up when my door was ripped clean off its hinges. He stormed in, straight to my bed where I lay frozen in fear. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t believe my eyes. I couldn’t understand why one of my peers would do what he was doing, why he would kill so many innocent lives.

He didn’t waste a split second as he raised his lightsaber over our heads, his eyes blazing with rage. As he swung his arm, my eyes slammed shut. I flinched as I saw the blue flash of the lightsaber through my closed eyelids, but then I felt nothing. I waited a few moments before I opened my eyes, not sure how to react. But as I opened them, I saw his lightsaber was lowered, its blue color casting a cold color across the room. My eyes lifted to his face, where I witnessed the most conflict I had ever seen in a human’s eyes.

His heart was tearing itself apart. His mind was at a standstill; he knew what his anger was telling him to do, but his heart was fighting against it.

Then, before I could fully get a grip on the situation, he closed his lightsaber. He dropped it to the floor, soon to be replaced by the crude, red lightsaber that he now wields today.

As it clattered on the ground, he turned and left through the doorway, just the way he came. The last thing I ever saw of him was his figure fading into the smoke from outside, billowing from Luke’s Jedi training temple, crumbling down into flames.”

“So he couldn’t kill you... could he?”

I swallow. “I suppose not...”

“There must be good in him, there has to be. You experienced it first hand, you-“

“Look,” I said, cutting her off. “I hate to tell you this, but Ben can’t be saved. It’s too late for him.”

“So that’s it? I shouldn’t even try?”

“I would love nothing more than to believe that Ben may turn back to that way he was. But No. You shouldn’t. It’s too late now. He has killed so many; he’s been with the dark side far too long.

At the time when he spared my life, I was tied to a part of him that grounded him to the light side. In his memories I was one of the few things that relieved him of pain and loneliness and sorrow. I was someone he could talk to when he needed comfort and encouragement. That was why it was so hard for him to murder me, just as he did so easily to the rest of our fellow students. I was the last piece of Ben Solo he had left, but when he left my house that night, when he chose to forget me, he finally left behind his past, including me.

He isn’t Ben anymore, Rey. He’s Kylo Ren. If we crossed paths again he would take my life without a second thought. As much as I would love to disagree, as much as I would love to believe there is good in him, I’m not a part of his life anymore, and neither is Ben Solo a part of him.”

For once, the girl didn’t immediately respond. She studied me and turned my words in her head. She took a moment before speaking.

“He loved you... didn’t he? And you... you loved him.”

My stomach tightened. I drew in a breath. “He might have - it’s a possibility. And I might have too. But I don’t think about that. There’s no point in thinking about that. Why would I put myself in the heartbreaking position to believe that he did?”

“But does that not give you hope? Does it not prove to you that he is capable of love?”

In his fear simulation, he struggled against his captors.

“Get your hands off me,” he snarled, struggling against them.

I shook my head. No matter how hard he struggled it was impossible for him to avoid the situation; it was all in his head. This was his fear landscape - for the first time he was living all his greatest fears. The only way to escape was to either figure a way out or accept what was happening and move on.

I assumed this particular fear was something along the lines of being taken as a hostage or being forced against his will. It was when I saw my own face appear on screen that I realized I had been wrong.

Soon after they handcuffed him to a chair, I saw myself dragged onto the screen, kicking and crying and trying my best to wriggle out of my captor’s hands.

My mouth was wadded with a bandana tied around my head. The only sound I could make were growls or high pitched screams; whatever noise I was making, however, it sounded just like me. If I were Peter I might actually believe it were happening right before my eyes. Luckily, I wasn’t Peter right now, and if I were, I don’t think I would have been strong enough to keep my sanity after what he was about to be put through.

One of Peter’s captors grabbed a fistful of his hair, painfully jerking him still. As Peter gasped and winced, the man bent low to his face and gave him a wicked smile. Into his ear, he simply said one word: “Watch.”

The camera showed Peter’s face; his eyes widened and his face drained.

“No… Please…” His voice trembled - his whole face trembled and tears formed in his eyes. “Please, please no… Not this, anything but this. Please… please!” He begged as if his life depended on it. “Stop, just stop!” He begged and begged and begged some more, until tears flooded down his cheeks and his voice became hoarse. “Please don’t, I’ll do anything, I’ll do anything I swear! Please stop, don’t do this, I’m begging you, just-“

And that was when I first heard my own screams, then his. That was when I decided I couldn’t watch any longer.

“Stop! STOP!” He shouted at our captors, almost drowned out over my screams of pain. “Stop now!” I kept on and on; I’m not sure if I even took a breath in between screams. “Stop now or I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you!”

I couldn’t imagine in what ways they were torturing me in front of him. Frankly, by his reaction, I didn’t even want to imagine.

He screamed the same thing, over and over, shouting so loud that I could hear him through the simulation walls. “I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you! I swear I’ll kill you!” A string of curse words flew from his mouth as he spat at the men, killing me as slowly and as painfully as they could. He said everything he could think of to make my screaming stop, but it never seemed to be enough.

I closed my eyes and willed him to get himself together; it hurt me to hear all the emotional pain he was in.

Please, just get yourself out of that landscape. It’s not real.

Our screams seemed to get louder and louder and more frequent. It was only after ten of the longest minutes of my life that Peter finally managed to make himself pass out from losing so much air, ending the simulation.

The room rang with the sudden silence. I watched the landscape door open as Four dragged out an unconscious Peter. Four deliberately made eye contact with me across the room where I was sitting on a bench, watching the initiates’ fear tests. Immediately I whisked myself over to them and supported Peter by his waist, helping him to the bench. As I sat down with him, Four gave me a curt nod before marching back into the landscape for the next initiate.

It was hard to look at him, so pale and weak. The only color on his face was from the red around his eyes and his splotchy tear-stained cheeks.

My eyebrows furrowed and my lip trembled a little - not quite enough to make me cry, but just enough to make me shiver and shake. I reached up and combed a hand through his hair.

“Peter? Are you in there?” I asked quietly, twirling my fingers around his wavy curls and little cowlicks. I noticed his eyes and mouth twitch, almost like he were trying to reply. “I’m right here, I’m okay,” I whispered to him, leaving his hair and gently gripping his shoulder to keep him steady. I placed my other hand on his cheek, holding his head so I could meet his gaze.

I watched as the corners of his mouth twitched as he let out a quiet hum. Finally, his eyes opened, revealing their beautiful hazel color that I knew so well.

“There he is,” I said with a small smile, barely loud enough for him to hear. I looked closer and I could now see the brokenness in his eyes, making my heart sink.

“Y/N…” he muttered hoarsely, searching my eyes as if seeing them for the last time. I watched as his eyebrows furrowed and his eyes began to water.

With a sad smile, I shook my head and pulled him into a hug, wrapping my arms around his waist and tugging him as close to me as I could.

“Don’t think about it, it wasn’t real,” I whispered into his shoulder soothingly, drawing circles on his back. I felt him bury his face into my neck and pull me even closer. I felt his shoulders tremble, trying to hold himself together.

“I’m right here,” I say to him, pressing a kiss to his collarbone. “I’m not going anywhere, I promise.”

I felt his hands grasp a fistful of my shirt; his shoulders shook as he tried to hold in a sob. “There was so much blood,” he forced out, his voice shaking. “You screamed so loud, and y-you… you were hurting so much…”

His trembling worsened and his tears started to fall onto my skin. “I… I couldn’t do anything,” he croaked out, just before a sob made him gasp.

Carefully and gently, I unraveled my hands from his waist so I could take his head in my hands, brushing tears away from his cheeks with my thumb.

My eyes watered as I took in his appearance; the way his eyes seemed so cold and dark and broken made my heart ache. There was nothing I could do to take away what he had seen, and he wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon.

I tilted up my head and pressed a kiss to his nose, to his cheeks, and finally his lips, brushing away the tears that continued to fall.

- - -

“Where’s Y/N?”

Caitlin pursed her lips and gave Barry a cautious look.

“Your look-a-like may have caused some damage...” she trailed off, guilt written on her face.

His stomach dropped. “What happened?”

“Hannibal kissed me. Or, as she saw it... you kissed me.”

- - -

I heard a knock at my apartment door, waking me from the nap I fell into during my endless crying. I quickly tried to wipe away the dried tear streaks across my face, but as I glanced in my mirror on the way to the door, I realized my appearance as a lost cause at this point.

I swung the door open without a second thought, making me immediately wish I hadn’t. My eyes fell on an all too familiar face, making a shot of rage and hate spread from my head to toes. Immediately my hand raised and a loud slap rang through the air as my hand connected with his cheek.

“Ouch! Wait!”

Without saying a word, I stepped back into my apartment and launched the door shut, right in front of his face.

I backed away from the door and began to walk back to the couch, my rage dissipating and quickly being replaced with sadness and betrayal. My throat was closing and tears were already beginning to spring to my eyes.

“Y/N, please come back I-“

“Go away,” I yelled weakly through the door, nearly choking at the sound of his voice.

“Y/N, I can explain! Who you saw today wasn’t me!”

“Yeah? So not only you didn’t tell me you were cheating on me, but you also didn’t tell me you had a twin brother?” I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm and disappointment.

“No that’s not it! I just-“

He stopped himself and I heard a muffled sigh on the other side of the door.

“Please, just let me in.”

I didn’t answer. There was complete silence for the next minute.

“Fine. I’ll stay all night if I have to.”

“Are you sure? Caitlin’s probably gonna miss you,” I yell bitterly at him.

“Y/N, it’s not what you think! Please, let me explain!”

I rolled my eyes. Without saying anything, I got back up from the couch and trudged back to the door. I unlatched the lock and swung the door open, revealing a very nervous, very worried-looking Barry. I glanced down; now I notice that in his arms are a bouquet of my favorite flowers and two to-go boxes of my favorite Chinese restaurant. My heart melted and sank, all at the same time.

“You have five minutes,” I told him weakly as I stepped back, regretfully letting him walk through my door.

“Y/N, you have to understand, the Barry you saw today wasn’t me.”

“Then who?” I ask, not being able to meet his eyes. As much as I was mad at him, I still didn’t want him seeing me like this. I saw his hands place the flowers and Chinese food on a nearby end-table next to the couch.

“Hannibal Bates - he’s a shape shifting metahuman,” he responded quickly. I raised my eyebrows. “He impersonated me after trapping me in my house. Look, he did this to Eddie too,” he explained, taking out his cellphone. On it I watched as Eddie shot two of his coworkers, making me gasp. “See? It happened to him too. Luckily we cleared his name when we caught Hannibal.”

I wiped a few remaining tears from my eyes, relief gradually replacing my anger and sadness. I slowly lifted my eyes to meet Barry’s, shaking my head.

“Barry I’m... I am so sorry,” I said to him, regretting all the anger I had towards him. “I was so quick to blame you... I should have listened, I should have-“

All I heard was a light laugh before he pulled me into him by my waist, making me gasp. He pressed his lips against mine, stopping my sentence from escaping my mouth. I forget everything I was planning to say and apologize for as my eyes flutter closed. I can’t help but melt; I let out a small sigh through my nose, feeling him smile against my mouth as he kissed me. My hands wrap around his neck, tugging him closer and trying to get rid as much space as I could between us. I didn’t want anything more than to be as close as I could to him, and the thought of that still being a possibility filled me with happiness; no other girl one could take that possibility away from me.

Slowly, he broke away, still smiling.

“Trust me,” he says softly and gently. “You don’t have to apologize for anything. I hope you know that I would never even dream of being with another girl. I love you so much and there’s no one on Earth that could possibly replace you.”

I can’t help but smile up at him as I study his face. I see his beautiful hazel eyes, his adorable nose, and everything else I love about him that makes my heart race just like the first time I saw him.

I smile even wider and lovingly brush my nose against his, making him let out a quiet little laugh, just before I press one last kiss to his lips, short and sweet.

“I’m sorry, but… I need a huge favor,” he started.

“Uh, yeah, okay?”

“I need to stay the night, and maybe a few more, I don’t really know yet.”

I shrugged. “What’s such a big deal about that? You’ve stayed over plenty of times.”

It was true - I had been friends with him through thick and thin, even when he had nowhere else to go. Despite his newfound fame with the Horsemen, he had been living off his tricks and cons for a while, so unfortunately his sleep-overs weren’t an unfamiliar event.

“This time it’s different,” he said with a little more panic. “The police they’re… they’re after me. I- I’m scared, Y/N, I don’t want to-”

“Hey, hey,” I said, cutting him off and placing a hand on the side of his head. I brushed my thumb over his cheek and met his eyes with as much intensity as I could, almost if I were trying to send all my assurance through them to him. “You’re going to be okay, you hear me? Everything’s gonna be fine, we’ll figure it out.”

He reluctantly nodded, swallowing. The panic in his eyes seemed to lessen by a fraction.

I tore my gaze away from his to glance at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall.

I turned back to him. “It’s late, we should get to sleep… You look like you need it.”

- - -

I grabbed a pillow from my bedroom closet and padded back into the living area. There I found Jack lying on top of the blankets, his eyes closed, his head turned sideways on the armrest.

My heart skipped a beat. He was as peaceful and as handsome as ever.

I quietly tip-toed across the wooden floor so as not to wake him up. I bent over him and slowly and gently slid my hand under his neck. I tried my best to tilt his head just enough to wedge a pillow between him and the armrest, but before I could, his eyes fluttered open. He let out a light chuckle and raised his head up the rest of the way, allowing me to place the pillow behind him.

He gave me a sleepy smile as his head sank into the pillow and I leaned away from over him.

“Thought you could sneak past me, huh?” He said in a slightly raspy, tired voice - no doubt from his deep nap that he was previously in.

“I didn’t want to wake you. I figured you must be really tired out.”

He shrugged a shoulder. “Not tired enough to miss out on seeing my favorite person in the whole wide world,” he says with a wider, more charming smile - the kind that he used so often in his performances to make the audience swoon.

I returned a smile that stretched all the way across my now lightly blushed cheeks. My eyes flickered between each of his warm brown eyes, which had that playful gleam in them as they so often did. I watched him smile just a bit wider, not taking his eyes off mine.

I shrugged as shoulder. “Yeah, well, I can wait, I’m not that important.” I reached up my hand and combed my fingers through his soft, brown hair. “You should get to sleep.”

I expect for him to make up another comment or start another conversation, but he doesn’t. Instead he just sits there in front of me; he studies my face intently.

I give him a questioning look and tilt my head. “What?”

He shakes his head. “You were wrong.”

“About what?”

“You said you weren’t that important. You were wrong. You’re so important. To me, at least.”

I give him a sweet smile. “I’m not the only one. You’re important to me too, you know.”

He smiles, but after a few seconds it fades. He doesn’t say anything. A comfortable moment of silence passes between us; we search each other’s eyes and it seems as if we’re lost in time. I’m not exactly sure how many seconds pass, but finally he moves, pulling me out of my reverie; he lifts his hand and brushes his fingers though my hair, plays around with it, twists it this way and that. A few more seconds pass.

His eyes bore into mine. “Y/N?”

“Mmm?”

His mouth opens slightly for a fraction of a second, almost as if he’s going to stop himself, but he continues. “I think I love you.”

My heart leaps, skipping a beat. “You do?”

He gives a small nod. “I do.”

My eyes flicker all around his face - to his nose, his cheeks, his lips, and once again his eyes. I take in as much as I can, but however much it is, it’s never enough. I smile.

“I think I love you too.”

I stared at the now closed door as the previous moments flashed before my eyes.

The malicious, murderous look in his eyes. The hateful words that came out of his mouth. The crack that echoed through the room as his fist connected with a nose. The yells and swearing that came from him as he struggled against those who attempted to hold him back. Most of all, I recalled the shock of fear that struck my heart and knocked me breathless, making me question whether if the person I was watching was really my friend or not.

A voice dragged me back to reality. “Y/N, you are relieved from your duties today, as is everyone else,” my supervisor announced to both my colleagues and I as he was given a rag for the director. Our experiment director was now sitting in a stool, surrounded by those around him trying to stop his now bleeding nose.

I hesitantly nodded and let out a breath that I didn’t realize I was holding. Still in a daze, my heart still racing, my feet turned and led me out the same door Peter had just stormed through.

- - -

I held my knuckle up to the door, planning to knock, but stopping myself with hesitation.

He couldn’t still be mad, could he? What if he opens the door and knocks my lights out?

I shook my head. This was my friend. I’d known him ever since he’d been rescued from the fringe. He wouldn’t - not to me.

Finally, I tapped my knuckle against the metal door, making a few meek knocks.

I anxiously waited for a few seconds. At first, I questioned whether he actually heard the knocks or not, but just as I was considering knocking again, the door slid open.

Our eyes immediately met. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it. There was no emotion, no anger, no regret - just a cold, indifferent stiffness.

There was an expanse of tense silence as I racked my brain for what to say. My mind went blank; I had no idea why I was even there, what I would do, what I would say. Luckily, he broke the silence and I didn’t have to figure it out.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he muttered stiffly.

That wasn’t what I expected.

“You shouldn’t be pushing me away,” I replied, the words tumbling out of my mouth before I could give them a second thought.

“I’ve been pushing everyone away, if you haven’t noticed,” he said with a poisonous tone, taking me by a slight surprise.

I let a quiet, fleeting moment pass before I responded.

“Just let me in, Peter.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I can do that.”

“Why not? I’ve done it hundreds of other times, why not now?”

“I can’t Y/N.”

“You can.”

He let out a short, hollow, almost vicious laugh.

“Trust me, you don’t know what I can or can’t do.”

Blood rushed to my cheeks and I felt the sudden urge to hit something. Instead, I settled for curling my fist as tight as I could.

“I might know if you would stop pushing me away!”

“Don’t you get it? I don’t want you to know! I don’t want you around me!”

I drew in a breath.

What?

Once again, my mind was blank. But, once again, I didn’t have to know what to say or what to do. Once again, it was him who decided what happened next.

And that made me angry.

Just as he pressed the control panel from inside and the door began to close, I flashed my foot out, right in the middle of the track, stopping it from sealing against the wall.

I caught a fleeting expression of surprise on his face, but not before he quickly regained his composure as if he were completely unphased.

I leaned in close to the crack in the door; it was just barely wide enough to see both his cold, darkened eyes.

My eyes were wide with anger, struggling to express just how much frustration was festering in my mind.

“I may not know what you can or cannot do, but I do know you can’t tell me what to do,” I said in a quiet, deadly tone. “You can’t tell me to stay away. I don’t know who you think you are, or what you think you’ve become, but it’s not supposed to be this. It’s supposed to be the guy I met when you first dragged yourself out of the fringe and into this facility,” I took a quick breath and swallowed my anger. I continued, my tone a little less vicious. “And that’s why you can’t tell me what to do, because you sure as hell better believe I’m going to keep looking for that guy. Because he is kind, and funny, and everything that my best friend used to be, and he is you.”

I stared him down as hard as I could; he stared right back. And then, just for a second, I watched his eyes waver; I couldn’t tell for sure, but for just a moment, they seemed to soften.

“I’m glad there’s at least one person who still thinks that,” he said weakly before turning around and beginning to disappear back into his apartment.

“Peter!”

I didn’t give it a second thought. My hand automatically shot though the slim doorway and grasped onto the first thing it could find - his hand.

He tensed. However, I was surprised to find that he didn’t tear his hand away. Instead, his head turned slowly. His eyes trailed from our hands, up my arm, and finally, my face, reluctantly meeting my eyes.

For a pause, we searched each other’s eyes, silently asking each other what one of us would do next. The closer I looked, the more familiar his eyes seemed, even if only barely. I found a slight softness to them, more similar to the friendlier, charming expression that I’d known for so long.

To my surprise, he gave me a pained look, shaking his head. “You’re not making this easy.”

He let go of my hand and reached to the wall towards the door control panel. The door slid away from my foot, completely opening the space between us.

I let out a breath I had been holding. Instinctively, instead of standing there like any normal person would, I took a step closer and wrapped both arms around his waist. Once again, he tensed, but quickly relaxed and returned the hug. I let out a small sigh, my cheek against his chest.

“Why are you doing this?” I felt his chest vibrate as he spoke quietly.

I loosened my grip and held him at arm’s length. I gave him a once-over and studied him for a moment; finally I met his eyes and shook my head and shrugged.

“You’re my friend. Why wouldn’t I?”

“Because I’m dangerous, Y/N,” he told me.

“You’re not, you’re-”

“I’ve seen visions, Y/N!” He raised his voice, just enough to drown out my words.

My eyes widened. “Vis- You mean your old life?”

He pressed his lips in a tight line, nodding.

I looked down, not quite knowing what to say.

“Come here,” he said, noticeably more gently. He took my forearm and led me around the corner of his apartment’s living area. He sat us down, side-by-side on his couch.

At first he didn’t say anything. He sat there, leaned over, elbows on his knees, hands clasped together. He stared at the tiled floor between his feet, undoubtedly searching for the right words to say.

I watched him reluctantly open his mouth and close it a few times before finally speaking.

“I was… awful,” he started, eyes still on the floor. I subconsciously shook my head in disbelief, but let him continue. “I did things that…” He swallowed. “Things that no one should do. I was sadistic and cowardly. I took someone’s eye. I attempted murder. I… I assisted in genocide, for God’s sake!” By now his voice had raised, the guilt and pain traveling from his mouth to my ears. I noticed his hands were clasped together so tight, that I could see the whites of his knuckles. He took a breath. “I’m a killer, Y/N. A monster,” he told me, his voice shaking.

It was as if I didn’t hear a thing he said; I didn’t believe him. He was describing who he was. There was a difference between who he was and who he is, and that difference was enough for me to believe there was good in him.

I reached out and placed my hand over his. I felt them relax from their tense hold and his eyes slowly traveled to meet mine. I saw swirls of pain in them: shame, despair, sadness. All the things that belonged to someone with a heart that belonged in the right place.

“You’re ashamed,” I told him, firmly holding his gaze. “That’s not an emotion that someone as terrible as you think you are would have. You know what’s right and what’s wrong, and even if you’ve done the things you think you have. You know you’re wrong for doing them.”

He didn’t respond so I glanced down, took his hand in both of mine, and continued.

“You are who you are now. The past doesn’t define you, it only defines who you were. If we didn’t have a past, then we wouldn’t be able to improve who we are today,” I tell him.

He doesn’t reply, instead he intently watches me talk to him. I reach up and brush my fingers through his brown curls. “Now, you have a choice of who you want to be, and something tells me that’s what your old self wanted - to give you a fresh start.”

“And what if you’re wrong? What if my memory loss was just a freak accident?”

“Then you still get a choice,” I say, giving him a small, encouraging smile. Before I can stop myself, I lean in closer, place a hand on the side of his head, and press a kiss to his forehead.

As I pull away, he places a hand on my cheek, meeting my eyes to share an intense gaze. He searches my face before speaking.

“What if,” he started, his eyes flickering to my lips, my nose, and then my eyes again. “What if I gave you a choice?”

My eye brows raised in question.

“You can choose to tell me to stop,” he says, just above a whisper. He tilts his head forward, closer and closer, the space between us diminishing. Finally, he’s close enough so that he gently rests his forehead against mine and I can barely feel his breath dance across my lips. His eyes bore into mine. “Or you can choose to keep going.”

His intense eyes flicker down to my lips again, but quickly return to my eyes. He closes his eyes. This time, I know what happens next. This time, I want what happens next. I don’t stop him.

His lips carefully, gently capture mine in his. I feel his arm wrap around my waist and his hand press against my back. His other hand slides into my hair, just as I feel him smile against my lips - so much that he has to break away. He rests his forehead against mine once again.

“Thank you,” he says, his eyes soft with compassion. He closed his eyes again and presses a kiss to my forehead, my cheeks, and once again my lips. “Thank you for believing in me.”

“Laying down,” I ordered, lifting his arm from my shoulders. He proceeded to get down on the couch before I stopped him, shaking my head and wagging a finger at him. “Ah, ah. Shirt’s gotta come off first.”

He let out a hollow chuckle, making himself wince. “You could’ve asked before I’d lost two pints of blood.”

I rolled my eyes. “No laughing, Wilder. It speeds up the heart rate, makes you lose more blood,” I said blandly as I opened my first aid kit from the drawer.

“Sorry to break it to you, princess, but that’s not the only reason my heart rate’s going up,” he said cheekily.

I shook my head. “You really have lost a lot of blood.”

He didn’t say anything. I turned around to find him sprawled out on the couch with exhaustion, still clutching his side, his head to the side and his eyes closed, trying his best to control his breathing. As bitter as I was at him, I still felt equally sympathetic; he really was in pain.

I took my materials and sat down with them in front of him on the hard wood floor. I took his wrist and checked his pulse while subconsciously running my fingers through the front of his hair. I concentrated on his pulse as I studied his face. I finished counting his pulse. An abnormally quick heart rate… hmm…

He groaned and turned his head, opening his eyes with a struggle as if I were shining a blinding light in them. His gaze met mine and a strained, playful smile graced his lips.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” He asked.

My eyebrows furrowed. “Like what?”

“Like that.”

I shook my head once again. Must be the blood loss talking.

My eyes traveled to his side where his hand still lay clenched. I gingerly placed my own hand on his, glancing at him. “Can I see?”

As a response he lifted his hand, which I could see was shaking as it traveled through he air. A pang of sympathy thudded against my heart.

I studied the wound for a second before fishing around for the supplies to treat it.

“Third degree trauma wound. Cut from a knife?” I asked, pulling out a numbing injection.

“Yeah, I got- woah, hold on a minute, doc,” he said, his eyes wide as he peered at the needle. “Can we talk about thi-“

“Look, you don’t want me dressing a wound like that without numbing it,” I explained, pulling out a gauze and smearing alcohol on the skin right next to the huge gash.

“Yeah, okay, just make it quick,” he said, turning his head again and squeezing his eyes shut.

As fast as the needle entered his skin, it left just as quickly. I glanced at Jack, who still had his eyes squinted together as tight as he could.

“I’m done now, genius,” I told him, cracking a small smile. My bitterness was quickly fading away; it was hard to stay mad at him for long.

He cracked an eye open, then quickly both of them when he realized the needle was well away from him. “Oh- right, uh, yeah, I know, ” he replied. “Just testing you.”

“Right,” I nodded, raising my eyebrows in a sarcastic way.

I wasted no time in proceeding to clean the wound. I was about halfway done with the stitching when he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” he said simply.

I took a brief pause to send him a questioning look. 

I went back to work, still talking. “For?”

“Working you like this. Showing up at your house at midnight to get stitches. It’s not fair to you.”

I shrugged. “Just part of the job, I guess.” A brief silence passed before I let out a short laugh. “But I do have to admit, as much as you get yourself hurt you’d think you’d know how to stitch yourself up by now.”

“Well, maybe you should teach me?”

I shrugged again. “It’s not too hard. Kinda like knitting I guess. Here, watch.” I leaned in close to show him. I tied off the end of the stitches in slow motion so he could see what was happening. As I finished, I glanced up at him to find his attention intently trained on me. I didn’t fail to notice that his face was particularly close to mine. I let out a slightly nervous laugh.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

He grinned. “Funny, I asked you the same question just five minutes ago.”

“Okay, yeah, but why?”

Then he grinned even wider. And, as if to answer my question, he propped himself on his elbows and tilted his head forward, just enough to close the gap between us.

I couldn’t comprehend it at first, but as quickly as I tensed up, I relaxed. In one hand I accidentally dropped my tweezers on his chest, abandoning them for a hand in his hair. However, it seemed as if as soon as we kissed, we broke apart. I opened my eyes to find that same silly grin spread across his face.